


The Meaning of Purple

by boazpriestly



Series: The Different Hearts Club [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boazpriestly/pseuds/boazpriestly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve McGarrett was born with a broken heart. That’s what everyone whispered amongst themselves as Steve walked by wearing too many layers, just to hide the way his chest pulsed. It wasn’t until Steve met Freddie Hart in the second grade that he learned that they were all wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Purple

**Author's Note:**

> This fic/fic series is based on this photo: http://41.media.tumblr.com/f557d988c901f2ae857509b59c69c866/tumblr_o64qxykzgL1sfykeao1_500.jpg

Steve McGarrett was born with a broken heart. That’s what everyone whispered amongst themselves as Steve walked by wearing too many layers, just to hide the way his chest pulsed. It glowed the wrong color; red where everyone else’s was blue or green. Warm where everyone else was cool. He learned this on his first day of Kindergarten, when Jimmy Stone pointed at Steve’s chest and said that no one was supposed to look like Steve did. The teacher had tried to be inclusive and kind and told Steve that he was perfect just how he was, but Steve saw the way she couldn’t stop staring at the red beating through his t-shirt. None of the other children played with him for the entire year and all the way through first grade. 

It wasn’t until Steve met Freddie Hart in the second grade that he learned that Jimmy Stone was wrong. Freddie’s chest glowed differently too. His was purple, like the flowers that grew in Steve’s mother’s front garden. Steve didn’t know what the color meant, but he thought it was pretty just like Freddie’s smile whenever he took Steve’s hand in his and led him around the playground at recess. They became best friends quickly and effortlessly. Nobody messed with Freddie, which meant they didn’t mess with Steve either – not that they even paid any attention to him before Freddie. 

Steve liked having a friend. It was different and weird, but it was better than being alone. Steve hated being alone. He was stuck with his own thoughts when he was alone; he didn’t like the things that went through his head when he was alone. With Freddie, Steve got to think about normal things, fun things, like how big of a spoonful of ice cream they could fit in their mouths before it resulted in an instant brain freeze. (Freddie always won that game.) With Freddie, Steve felt like he belonged and like it was okay to not be the same as everyone else. 

At home it was different. Everyone in his family had chests that glowed a beautiful ocean blue that made everyone around them so calm. Steve made people anxious and agitated with his red glow. His mother hated it. She scoffed under her breath sometimes, thinking Steve couldn’t hear her. She went on about how he was supposed to be a healthy, normal boy and how it was embarrassing to be seen with him in public because people stared at them all the time. Steve never told anyone about the things he heard his mother say about him, but his sister Mary held him in he middle of the night when he cried and told him that their mother was wrong for what she said. 

Steve’s father never said bad things about Steve. He always had a smile for Steve and a cop glare for anyone who looked down on Steve. But even then, Steve could feel the way his hand tensed every time someone whispered about Steve while they were out. When Steve was nine, he stopped holding his dad’s hand, claiming it was because he was getting older. His father just nodded, and Steve knew that he knew the real reason Steve stopped. 

Steve never stopped holding Freddie’s hand, though. People tried to make them stop, teachers and parents and other kids their age. They tried to make them feel ashamed for loving each other the way they did, for sticking together like no one ever stuck with them. But Steve wouldn’t let them take Freddie from him, not without a fight. And Steve got in plenty of fights over the years. Freddie too. It became what they were known for: The Freaks with the Fists. 

But none of the fights or the bad words towards Steve ever changed the fact that Steve’s chest glowed wrong. It was always too bright, too red, too warm, too everything it wasn’t supposed to be. As they got older Freddie tried over and over to get Steve to believe that his chest glow was just as normal as anyone else’s, but it only made Steve angry. There was no proof for what Freddie told him. Nothing to support his claim because the other kids still avoided Steve, adults still gossiped about him, and Steve’s own mom still hated him because of his stupid chest. 

“But none of that even matters, Steve!” Freddie yelled at him one night as they sat on the beach near Freddie’s house. 

“How do you figure?” Steve shouted back, “no one gives two shits about me because of this!” He thumped at his chest hard. 

“I give a shit, Steve. They don’t love you, but I fucking do!” Freddie scraped his hands over his face and sighed before pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I love you so damn much and it kills me that you can’t see how goddamn perfect you are. How perfect you’ve always been.” 

Steve’s mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton. His heart raced as he tried to comprehend what Freddie had said. 

“I’ve been trying to get you to believe me since we were eight years old, Steve. Who cares if your chest isn’t the same color as everyone else’s, huh?” Freddie sniffled and Steve watched a tear fall down his cheek. “Why do we have to be like everyone else to be accepted? Why do people hate us just because we’re different?” 

Steve moved before he even knew what he was doing and pulled Freddie into a hug. His own tears fell as Freddie sobbed in his arms. There was a lead ball in Steve’s stomach and it hurt like hell. He’d been so wrapped up in his own damn pity party that he never thought that maybe Freddie was feeling just as badly as he was because he wasn’t a blue or green either. 

“I’m so sorry, Freddie. I didn’t mean –”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize to me, okay. Just…just please…” Freddie pulled back and looked in Steve’s eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Steve. I just want you to realize that some day.”

Steve couldn’t help himself. he kissed Freddie right then and there. It was short and probably too hard, but it felt right; it felt good. So he did it again and again, until Freddie started laughing and rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. 

“God I love you, Steve,” Freddie said. His fingers tightened where he held on to Steve’s shirt and it made Steve’s heart beat faster. 

“I love you too, Freddie.” He kissed Freddie’s hair and held him close as the sun began to set. 

They watched the sky as it began to change colors to match the colors on their chests, and Steve realized that he finally knew the meaning of purple. 

If red meant that Steve was born with a broken heart, then purple meant that Freddie was born with a golden one. Because when everyone else chose to turn their back on a little boy who had no control over the fact that he was different, Freddie walked up to that boy, grabbed his hand and said, “We’re going to be best friends forever, okay?” 

The best decision Steve ever made in his life was saying, “Okay,” in return.


End file.
